Russian Roulette
by HollywoodGirl15
Summary: He lost all control, slammed the bat down, and didn’t stop until his subconscious screamed at him that the game was over. Donny/OC
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing in the story but the plot and OCs. Everything else belongs to their rightful trademarks. I do not intend to offend anyone, nor do I feel a certain way towards any religious groups.

**Author's Note:** Just keep in mind that first chapters always suck lol. So I thought I'd try a Donny story, hope you guys like!

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Smoke blew over the brown, dirty ground as hands tried to flail it away. Gunfire still echoed in everyone's ears, the smell of the powder heavy in the air. The air felt thirty times thicker than it should've, but nobody in the room paid attention. Gun pointed towards the spare room, and the orders were immediately followed.

The men scattered around the main room, depriving their victims of anything that could be of use. It was a war after all, and they weren't foolish enough to leave a damn thing behind. They had learned that the second they enlisted, and now everything was that much more valuable in their eyes. Spare bullets, guns, knives, identities, anything. The leader of the troop made sure that everything was in one huge pile, ready to divide among them once they were all in the same room, mind cleared. Then once that was settled, whatever food was in the place would be cooked and divided up.

That very task brought the smallest of the troop to the kitchen, using the tip of his gun to push aside small boxes. Making sure that nobody was going to try and ambush him, Smithson Utivich nodded to himself. It was a sense of security that no longer existed in the world of war, and in the moment where he was alone, Utivich allowed himself to forget his soldierly instincts. No longer having the watchful eyes of his Apache Lieutenant on his back, the young boy let himself relax as he dug through the ice box for whatever food was salvageable.

Back in the front room, an eerie silence had fallen among the boys that were just recently chatting away happily. Omar and Hirschberg had taken the tedious task of trying to salvage up all weaponry, while Stiglitz and Wicki flipped through Ids. They easily translated them for their English leader, watching his head nod every few seconds to acknowledge the fact that he understood and comprehended the information.

Door falling close behind the arguably scariest Basterd, Donny Donowitz stomped into the spare bedroom. Duty far from being fulfilled, he grasped the bat a bit tighter. Raising it up and over his shoulder, he let it crash back down upon a few unsuspecting crates. Shards of wood flew up around him, making him grin widely as the sound of snapping wood met his ears.

Ruling off the fact that there could've been someone hiding in them, Donny simply shrugged his shoulders and let out a small yawn. Holding his bat up in front of his face, a slow grin spread across it as his hand ran over the bloodied bat. Dried blood and new, it made no difference to the Sergeant. Every little piece of missing wood, every newly acquired thing on his bat made the grin light up more.

Out of all of the boys in the troop, everyone was sure of the fact that Donny had lost his sanity more than the rest of them. The demonic glint in his eyes just as he brought the bat down to swing at his pitch was all the proof they needed of that. However, they couldn't rule off that one split second where Donny actually looked sorry that he was about to take a German soldiers' life. That one second when his face composed into a sorrow filled one disappeared as quickly as it came, and then it was lights out. From there, Donny ran off of adrenaline that would make him look deranged to anyone else. The boys understood though, they had to. They always watched in amazement as he was short of breath, holding the bat over the next German soldiers' head, ready to bring it down on command.

The thing that the boys could not ignore however, was the fact that Donny wasn't doing this for himself. When they had all met on the line up, watching the Sergeant grinning at the idea of being cruel to the Germans, they had written him off as crazy all ready. It was as simple as that. But the fact still remained that when they caught a glance of his bat, all of those thoughts were thrown away. On it were carved names of Jewish Americans back home with family members overseas. Each swing of the bat, each German soldier, wasn't for Donny Donowitz. It was for everyone back in Boston, for every family member who might not be making it home when this whole ordeal was over.

And Donny didn't regret a single thing about it.

That was the way he went about the situation; he couldn't regret hurting people that hurt others. He couldn't regret doing this for a good cause. Now he was in France, and he wasn't going home until he ended the war. That meant he'd do anything it cost to destroy the Nazi's plans, and he was damn proud of it.

Obviously, Donny was far from blind to what the others thought of him. They thought he was crazy, psychotic even. He managed to push those into the back of his mind, only settling on caring what the Lieutenant thought of him. After all, he was the only superior, so why worry about what the rest of the troops said? He wasn't going anywhere, and they full well knew that.

Nobody wanted to get inside Donny's mind and ask him what went through it right before he brought the bat down. That was more gory and into full detail than the Basterds wanted to get, and Donny was fine with it. He couldn't even tell them if he tried. So many emotions flooded him at that exact moment, so many faces, so many names. He lost all control, slammed the bat down, and didn't stop until his subconscious screamed at him that the game was over. Only then would he allow the bat to be used in its true baseball reference, not giving a damn if anyone else actually understood them.

They were mostly repeated in order for him to calm down, anyways.

They brought back a certain innocence than Donny had tried his hardest to retain. But no matter how hard he tried, his memories of Boston were starting to fade rapidly. The cities, bridges, smells; they all blurred together.

And Donny Donowitz hated it.

He wanted nothing more than to retain those memories, and recall them ever so fondly like the other Basterds did. In his rage induced mind, Donny couldn't even think about Boston. Home didn't call to him any longer, and it left a sick feeling in his stomach. The thoughts of loosing everything drove him to insanity, and most of the time it left him hyperventilating in his sleeping bag, hands pressed to his eyes as he kept himself from screaming.

Taking a deep breath and shaking his head clear from the ever fogging thoughts, Donny slid his bat through the make shift holster. It clunked against his knee, but he paid it no attention as he easily lifted one of the remaining crates. Being lightweight, the man ruled it off as having no food or anything in it whatsoever. For good measure, he gave it a shake and heard nothing rattling around. Nodding to himself, he set it down and moved to the remaining three.

They were pressed closer to the wall then the others, and it raised a red flag in the back of Donny's mind. Stepping forward and nudging one hesitantly and cautiously, he watched as it reluctantly moved. Curiously, Donny peered around it to find a body, gripping to the back of the box as if it were their lifeline.

Hand gripping his bat and pulling it free, Donny smacked the box and watched as alarmed brown eyes flew up to meet his. "Get the FUCK up."

Flying up and nearly smashing right back into the crates, the girl quickly made her way out and stood in front of the angered looking Sergeant. Her eyes went from the bat to the man every five seconds, and Donny was mentally comparing her to a timid mouse. She made no sudden movements, nothing that would alert him.

Mentally contemplating with himself, Donny pulled in a deep breath. She was a girl, most likely around his age by the look of it. Her hair was dirty and clung to her face, unwanted cuts along her cheek and arms. Lifting his eyes away from her for a moment, he shut his eyes.

He had a direct order to kill every Nazi he encountered.

Swallowing hard for a moment, Donny brought his bat up to his shoulder. She didn't make any move to stop him, and as he let the bat start to come down, the girls arms flew up over her head. Freezing in mid swing, Donny's eyes widened.

Staring back at him was a carved star in the girls wrist. The cuts were fairly deep in some spots, and it didn't look to be more than a few days old. Setting the bat down and grabbing the girls wrist, he pulled it closer to his face and examined it more.

The small wrist was pulled out of his hand, surprising even him as he stared at the girl who was mumbling incoherent words in a language that hadn't hit his ears yet. Not entirely positive if it was the situation getting the better of the girl or if she was truly foreign, Donny let his eyes take in her full presence.

Her dress was dirty beyond deciphering the colors, and her legs looked to be just as scraped up as the rest of her. Bottom lip trembling, stumbling upon incoherent words, the girls arms threw themselves around Donny. His own arms lifted in the air out of shock, Donny's eyes widened as he stared down the girl. She didn't seem to take notice of the dirt, grime, and blood that heavily coated his once white shirt.

Unsure of whether or not to pull the sobbing girl away from him, Donny settled for staring at the door and trying to decipher the words that were starting to frustrate him. Although they all sounded foreign at this point, Donny managed to make out three; The Bear Jew.


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing in the story but the plot and OCs. Everything else belongs to their rightful trademarks. I do not intend to offend anyone, nor do I feel a certain way towards any religious groups

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The trembling girl pressed her face deeper into The Bear Jew's bloodied shirt, unphased by the fact that Donny Donowitz was probably the wrong person to even touch. Stunned right to his spot, Donny continued to examine her with wide eyes. Confusion pulled at his eyebrows, and for once he was downright unsure of the situation.

If she all ready knew his nickname, then she should be downright terrified of him, Jew or not. Almost everyone the Basterds encountered were terrified of him, even if he was on their side. It was the sheer image of him wielding the bat that held so much blood and destruction on it that scared them stiff. Even with much encouragement that everything was okay, that that wouldn't be their fate, the people still shrank away as if Donny was an actual monster.

"Um, there there?" awkwardly letting an arm fall to her lower back, Donny softly patted the sobbing girls' back with an unsure hand. The grip on his waist only seemed to tighten, and Donny let out a groan that didn't go uncharted by the others. Within seconds, footsteps fell upon Donny's ears, and in his delusional state, they sounded more like gunfire.

"You find anyone, Donowitz?" Aldo's voice finally registered in his mind, and Donny turned to face the Lieutenant. Raising his arms and giving him an exasperated expression, he allowed Aldo's eyes to fully take in the scene. A stifle of laughter rose from the Tennessee native, and the Boston native's eyes narrowed at him. Trying to swallow down his laughter and conceal it, the leaders mouth twitched several times to try and hide his smile.

"Now just what in the hell is goin' on in here?" the stifle of laughter rose once again, and Donny was regretting setting his bat down. Utivich's eyes were on the girl alone, a confused expression mirroring that of the other Basterds. Setting his hands on the girls' shoulders and attempting to pry her off of his waist, Donny succeeded with minimal help from Stiglitz.

The girls' arms wrapped around herself, head ducked slightly as she looked up through her lashes at the troop of army men that could easily destroy her. Fully realizing that situation she had unintentionally brought herself into, the girl attempted to quickly decipher the expressions on each of the boys' faces.

Waving his hand dismissively towards the other Basterds and turning his full attention to the girl, Aldo gave her a tight smile that didn't settle her clenching stomach. "Now just who in the fuckin' hell are you?"

Donny's hand had retained its' famous bat, and he was running his fingers along the splinters absentmindedly. It was a hobby that had always settled his stomach in his moments of insecurity, those moments when he wasn't positive of why he was here. He had to remind himself with a soft voice in his head that this was for more than just him. Upon his return to Boston, he'd be met with shouts that he was a hero, not a destructive monster like the Germans referred to him as.

Reaching out and nudging her with his bat, Donny gave her the silent okay to talk that she had been waiting for without the men in the room knowing. Swallowing in a deep breath and fiddling with the bottom of her dress like she always did when she was nervous, she bit at her lip. "I'm Britney Madison."

Stunned eyes running to her American accent, all Basterds ran their eyes up her once more. She had dirty blonde hair (as far as they could tell), an average figure, and was of average height. Her green eyes were glittered with specs of red from crying, and the cuts along her drew everyone's attention to them. "Wait, yer American?"

Carefully avoiding Donny's eyes that were constantly trailing her and causing a sense of uncomfortable feelings to pool into her mind, the girl pulled in a deep breath. Nodding her head once, she subconsciously pulled her arms closer to her torso. "Yes."

"The fuck you doin' in France?!" the leader looked more and more appalled by the fact of an American being inside enemy territory. Shifting uncomfortably and leaning against a crate now for more stable balance, the girl ceased to bite at her lip.

"My family moved here a few years ago," the girl mumbled out softly, now back to chewing on her lip and subconsciously running her fingers along the star on her wrist. It was medium in size, and was easy noticeable to all who seen her wrist.

Donny shot a glance at Aldo, in which the leader returned with a nod. Relaxing his posture and nodding towards Donny once more, he turned on his heel, addressing the girl over his shoulder. "Now Donowitz is gunna get you cleaned up. Then yous gunna sit down and explain to us just how in the hell you ended up 'ere."

Footsteps falling away from the room, Britney allowed herself to look up at the rather uncomfortable looking Bear Jew. A few seconds later, the sound of water sloshing as someone carried it hit her ears, and Utivich emerged moments later. Setting the pal of water down, he looked at Donny for a moment. Letting the pleading eyes drag him into the situation, Utivich took a seat next to Donny and gently waved the uncomfortable looking girl over.

Stabilizing her legs and giving them the mental okay to follow the orders, Britney slowly made her way over to the two boys. Donny was uncomfortably playing with the washcloth that was in the pal, Utivich looking much more composed and stable. She took a seat in front of them on a crate, nearly just making her eye level with Donny's shoulders.

Holding out his hand expectantly, Britney slowly placed her wrist into the massive hand. Donny felt even more insecure as he felt as though he was holding his mother's best China. The wrist was small and was particularly white against his tanned skin. Carefully lifting up the washcloth as his eyes completely lingered on the star. Sucking in a deep breath and puffing out his cheeks lightly, Donny brought the warm fabric that was laced with soap down upon Britney's wrist.

The girl let out a hiss of pain, letting her eyes shut as she bit on her lip to keep from showing any more forms of weakness. Gently pressing down on the cuts and removing all dirt and grime from them, Donny repeated the task several times like his mother would after he got hurt playing baseball.

Shutting his eyes tightly and sucking in a breath, he let the washcloth linger for a moment. The memories flooded into his mind, twisting at his heart as his stomach clenched and turned. All the times he played baseball, hit a home run. All the times he slid to the base, scraping his knee up or elbow. Going home to his mother who would give him a disapproving look, but be proud of him nonetheless. She'd give him that stern gaze that made him believe he was in trouble, then whisper soothing words as she cleaned out the cut and bandaged it, gently placing a kiss to it. This simple action brightened up Donny's tear filled eyes, bringing a widespread smile to his face as he made that false promise once more to do schoolwork instead of going out and playing with his friends. And his mother knew it was a lie every time, but simply nodded and gave him a smile nonetheless.

"Donny?" Utivich's voice broke Donny out of his perfect memory that he had all but near loss. Eyes snapping open, all visions of Boston faded in the snap of a finger, and Donny was left with the cold, useless war filled memories once more. A scowl set its way on his face as he set the washcloth back in the water and swirled it around. The once happy feeling that had filled his stomach, the tightening of his chest, they all faded away as soon as he opened his eyes. He was back to the memories that he didn't want, the ones that made his stomach twist with the realization that he might as well be a monster.

Breathing deep through his nose and letting out a small grunting noise, he turned towards Utivich. "Take care of the rest of the cuts, I need to get some air."

Simply nodding, Utivich watched as the rather disgruntled Sergeant made his way out of the room, past the troops in the main room, and out the door with a loud slam. Staring at the door for a few moments, Utivich let a small smile pass on his face as he shook his head. Lifting the washcloth out of the pal once more and gently removing all signs of dirt from the remainder of cuts on Britney's arms, he gave her a small smile. "Think you can manage the ones on your legs?"

The sincerity in his voice put the butterflies in her stomach to ease, and she gave him an easy smile back as she nodded. Gently transferring the washcloth into the girls' hands, Utivich nodded to her and walked to the other side of the room to look out the window. Believing the voice of reason in his head that told him that the task was a private one, Utivich allowed his thoughts to wonder in order to give the girl privacy.

The ground was covered in a light layer of snow, the weather outside not at all that cold despite the evidence that it should've been. The snow was all ready rapidly melting, much to the man's delight. Being without a nice cozy home to run to when things got cold and freezing, Utivich no longer cared to see the snow coating the ground in all its glory. It only reminded him that he was truly alone in a foreign country without a house to stay at. A freezing night on the ground, wondering if he was going to catch hypothermia wasn't the way he wanted to spend his night, and he was thankful that it was rapidly getting warmer out and that they had raided the small house.

The house itself sat along the edge of a forest, nearing a bridge and about an hour from the main city of Paris. Stumbling upon it by pure chance, the Basterds had been pleased to find Nazi vehicles outside and unleashed fire. Pleased with the notion of not sleeping out in the cold that night, they immediately set out to make a fire in the middle of the room.

Shaking his head and peering over his shoulder slightly, Utivich could see that the girl was moving on to her other leg with delicate precision. Turning his eyes away, the solider let his mind drift to that normally loud Sergeant outside. He sat with his back to the window, knees tucked to his chest and his head inside of his knee caps. Confused by the sudden change in the once proud Donny Donowitz, Utivich chewed at his bottom lip thoughtfully.

Something changed in his face whenever he set his eyes on Britney's wrist. It was the same look that always passed on his face right before he brought the bat down on the German soldiers' head. The look was one of sorrow and compassion, one that he didn't intend to show to anyone as the bat crashed down and the look was struck away. It was almost like Donny was trying to assure himself that it was okay to be doing this entire mission.

Britney's star on her wrist caused Donny's eyes to widen, for the expression to come out on his face, and nearly disappear just as quickly. He knew as well as the other Basterds that Donny had been having a hard time adjusting lately. The only explanation that Aldo had been able to pull out of the air was that Donny was homesick. That made no sense to Utivich, as whenever the Basterds shared stories of home, Donny had always left himself out of the circle. He'd make a face when it came to his turn, and he'd simply fake a yawn and head to bed. Utivich wasn't blind to the fact that it was much more than just tiredness from the brute Sergeant, and to be honest it frightened him.

He had heard stories of the war making you into someone you weren't. You lost yourself to the brutality and obscene things you viewed. However, he never thought those things to be true. After all, most of the people who said that stuff had been in the war for much longer than the boys had been. Hell, they had just been dropped into France a few months ago at the most. All ready they had left a fairly good path of destruction, but they had hardly seen any real damage at the hands of the war. He couldn't see how Donny had all ready lost himself to it.

However, the fact still remained that his entire demeanor had changed in the blink of an eye, and it left an unsettled feeling in Utivich's stomach.


	3. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing in the story but the plot and OCs. Everything else belongs to their rightful trademarks. I do not intend to offend anyone, nor do I feel a certain way towards any religious groups.

**Author's Note: **Let me know if Donny's getting _too_ OC, okay guys? Thanks!

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Boston.

Luscious green grass spread for miles as excited chatter rose upon everyone. There wasn't a care in the world, and the sounds of bats ticking baseballs could be heard in the distance as a little league game went on. The cobblestones ran along the roads, causing a huge smile to come onto the boys face. Bridges that loomed in forests were like a nightmare to him, but he'd press on anyways. The sweet smelling flowers tickled at his senses, and the boy allowed his eyes to close for a moment. His feet hit gravel, and the sounds of bats turning into gunfire.

And Donny had to stop his somewhat perfect vision right there. Once again, the beautiful memories of Boston had blurred in with the treacherous ones of France. He couldn't even make out the barrier between the two, and a small sob tugged at his heart as he realized that the memories had no line drawn. The line had never been drawn, and Donny had allowed the beautiful and horrific memories to blend together. Now he couldn't decipher them, and he couldn't file them into separate filing cabinets in the corners of his mind.

Tugging at his black locks of hair in frustration, Donny let out a something that sounded oddly like a growl. He didn't understand how the other boys could recall their memories so fondly, yet he was stuck in the dark. It was like someone had flipped a switch, and nobody remembered to turn it back on. One thing he was sure of however; Donny was absolutely and positively trapped inside his own mind. He didn't know how it happened or why it happened, but it did.

No matter how much the frustration built up, it couldn't force him to remember. For months he had dwelled over the fact that Boston was rapidly fading with each crack of his bat. Hell, half the time he couldn't remember the rules of baseball or why he loved it so much. The entire memory of everything he had once known was fading rapidly into this destructive universe he had gladly put himself into.

There was one memory from Boston that he couldn't erase, no matter how much he wanted it gone; the look on his mother's face the second he told her he was joining the army. He was enlisting himself, although nobody had ever pushed him to do it. The heartbreak and worry in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, and as she clung to her son crying Donny felt his own heart rip apart.

The night before he left, Donny tossed and turned in his bed. Nothing was okay, and now that it was actually happening, Donny regretted it. The bat at his side was the only thing soothing him, and he took a deep breath as he pressed his palms into his eyes. Even with a pillow propped up against his ear, he could still hear his mother sobbing downstairs as his father tried to comfort her.

He vaguely recalled waking up that morning, his socks feeling like led as he pulled them on. Heading downstairs, Donny allowed his bat to clunk against his legs unevenly, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His mother's eyes were red, and she pulled a weak smile as she walked over to him. Placing her hands on his cheeks, she gave him a sad smile. "Don't get yourself killed now, you hear? Your baseball team needs you."

And just like that, Donny's eyes snapped open and the memory faded before his eyes. Where the dusty bases and his bed once had been, trees now replaced them. They were in full bloom, the orange leaves reaching out a hand to Donny, as if the branches were ready to cradle the struggling man into their trunk. The wind would whisper sweet nothings to him, and if they were lucky, the troubled man would douse himself in slumber.

Shaking his head and gently uncurling himself from the ball that he had placed himself into, Donny slowly stood up. He stretched his arms high above his head, hearing his back groan in protest as Donny sucked in a deep breath through his nose. His head swirled and pounded, but he managed to push it back as his eyes scanned the area for any threats. The sun was rapidly setting, and his keen military senses told him that staying out here much longer without protection was foolish. With a heavy heart and head, Donny allowed his footsteps to lurch towards the house halfheartedly.

Once inside, the warmth of the fire hit him the instant he opened the door. It made his body shiver at the sudden heat, and he let out a small sigh. Observing the group that had all eyes on Britney who was quietly explaining how she got in her predicament, Donny took a seat in the far back, his back resting against a stone wall. He had absolutely no wishes in being in the same room as the girl, nor did he really want to be near anyone with his emotions running on haywire.

He couldn't tell you how long he sat there staring motionlessly at the floorboards. They were torn and ripped in some places, bullet holes piercing the places where the Basterds had fired their guns. That simple notation sent his stomach wheeling, and his hand flying up on reflex to hold it back. His entire body was pounding, and a sharp gasp fell from his lips as several eyes turned to look at him. Dismissing him with a shrug, Aldo gave him a sharp glare to pay attention to the business at hand.

"So around two weeks ago, they burst in our doors. Having no choice under the rule of France, we were forced to stay here until troops came to get us. The others had stars all ready on them; their clothing, shoes, hair berets, anything. I had nothing that they could find, so they decided to get back at the Basterds in the only way they thought possible; carving a star in my wrist like you guys did the Swastikas in their foreheads." with a simple shrug of her shoulders, the girl dismissed her story as if it had been nothing. Hand reaching up to scratch at his scar absentmindedly, Aldo nodded a bit.

"Fuckers try'na beat us at our own game," a devious smirk took over his lips as he stood up, nudging Hirschberg with the butt of his gun as he walked into the pantry. Awkwardly rubbing her arms, Britney brought her eyes back to the fire and tried to ignore the eyes that were on her.

One set of eyes particularly had taken a sudden interest in her posture; Donny Donowitz's. They were now scanning her several times, analyzing with skillful military trained eyes. He was filing everything on her away in a cabinet, letting his eyes absorb what she wouldn't openly spill out. Eyes narrowing slightly, Donny cocked his head to the side and pressed his tongue to his cheek.

This was a habit he had picked up awhile ago, and it was evident whenever he was truly studying something. It was the exact way Aldo knew Donny was paying attention, knew when his concentration was at its' highest peak. Donny's tongue tucked to the side of his cheek, jutting out ever so slightly, was the sure tell sign of it all. And by the way Donny's eyes were completely fixated on the star on Britney's wrist, Donny's concentration level was through the roof.

Standing up from his position and walking over to the circle that had formed, Donny bent to retrieve the medical bag that was in the corner of the room. Digging around for a few moments, he pulled out a small bottle of antiseptic and a roll of gauze. Taking a seat next to Britney casually, he took her wrist without explanation and made sure that no beats were missed in the conversation.

Antiseptic was sprayed, causing a low hiss out of Britney as Donny tightly wrapped the gauze around her wrist, ensuring that it wouldn't get infected. A set of curious eyes landed on him, and Donny slowly raised his own to meet those of their leader. Shaking his head slightly, Donny got up to place the gauze and antiseptic back in the bag. Raising his eyes once more, a sharp nod was headed his way, and Donny found himself once again trailing into the light snow and frosty night.

"So what's on yer mind? You've been quiet ever since discoverin' the girl." kicking at a stray rock that was poking its way through the snow, Aldo squinted to watch its path in the dimming light. A thunk sounded from the forest, and Aldo grinned in satisfaction as he turned back towards his right hand man.

"Nothin' sir," Donny mumbled lightly, moving his boot in a small circle and watching as the snow followed it. The cold powder licked at the dark dirt on his boots, and he knew they were in need for a good washing. However, he didn't see any use in washing them; they'd be dirty the second he stepped outside again. He could practically see his mother clicking her tongue at him, scolding him as she washed the grass stains out of his uniform.

"Now that's a load of shit and we both know it. Fucks up with you? Since when you start callin' me sir?" hands shoved onto his hips, Aldo ranged every emotion on Donny's face. Everything was a mixed signal, and his eyes narrowed to slits as he continued the stare down.

"I can't remember Boston," the timid and ashamed Sergeant mumbled out, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and not caring if it showed a sign of disrespect. Aldo made a strange noise, but simply nodded his head. Shrugging his shoulders and nudging the younger man lightly, Aldo gave him a small smile.

"Now don't get all sentimental on me boy. Yous one of the best we have, and I'm sure pretty little Boston ain't gone from that mind." tapping on Donny's head for emphasis, Aldo headed back inside the warm house. Light streamed from the windows by this point, the curtains not being drawn just quite yet. As Donny peered inside at the scene, his heart clenched again and he let out a soft groan.

To be completely honest, he felt like he was becoming some pansy ass chick. He felt like he was intruding on some homely scene, and it bothered him even more that he wanted it to be his home. At least if it was his home, he'd have some sense of security.

In the barren desert that was once beautiful France, Donny felt more unsafe than ever. Nobody was your friend during the war, and nobody ever would be. With guns pointed and fingers crossed, they would break a promise in order to save their own ass.

So who could you trust in a foreign country so far away from home? Donny could answer his own question with a simple chuckle as realization hit him. He had no friends, he had no home, he had no trust. He was The Bear Jew, and everything rested on his bat. Fear and intimidation were his friends. They wouldn't turn their back on him.

Shaking his head and pressing his palms into his eyes once again, Donny was aware of the ache throughout his entire body. It was dull, nearly like a toothache. It made his all ready sore legs move quickly into the house, and he allowed them to lead him to the cot in the back of the room.

"Yeah, there were two guards per room, armed with guns and S.S. knives." pausing from untying his boots, Donny's eyebrows skyrocketed to his forehead. Head whipping up to stare at the girl in amazement, he pressed his mind to reprocess the information that had just hit him.

The accent that he was all too familiar with. The way she said guard. She was American. They all lead to one common denominator that he had neglected to review previously.

Boston.


End file.
